‘Sint Jansbrug is a large society, which exploits the same terrible drinking habits as DSC and Virgiel but is rather less conservative’, Delta once wrote.
The eettafel has a bad name within the society (except on Fridays) and I couldn’t find a single Jansbrugger who’d agree to put his stomach at the mercy of the cook – a very disturbing sign.
Jansbrug keeps it in the middle. It was founded in 1947, after the war, and although it’s not stuck with a 1920s mindset like the traditional societies, it was relatively unharmed by the troublesome 1970s that formed societies like Wolbodo and almost killed off some of the smaller TU societies.
Jansbrug has structure but is also laid-back, and with its 650 members it’s not too big or too small. The society is especially proud of its location, consisting of two neighbouring houses with foundations dating from the early 15th century. The cellars house the beer supply of Jansbrug, just like in the old days, when Oude Delft 50-52 was home to the beer brewery ‘In ‘t blauwe Cruijs’.
During exam period the Jansbrug dining room is mostly empty. Today is no exception, and even though I’m quite late there’s plenty of food. A polite freshman and a friendly girl serve me potatoes, salad de luxe and a corncob (for the vegetarians). The salad is made de luxe by some feta cheese, olives, pine kernels and some sippets. I take a place at one of tables between the lime green walls of the dining room, on which many badly painted youthful figures are engaged in various social activities.
About a dozen typical Jansbruggers are there too: some have study books with them. I overhear some talk of sine and cosine and π’s; others mildly discuss the advantages of Jansbrug over Virgiel. The potatoes are not too bad, though I don’t dare to scoop mayo from the gargantuan jar. As far as I know it might have been there since 1500 as well.
The salad is also ok, the olives and feta belong there, thought the kernels look and taste very cheap. The freshman managed to spoil the corncobs, making them dry. Well, it doesn’t affect the taste and I like corncobs, so who cares? Out of curiosity I ask the cute serving girl about dessert. No dessert today, she says, but they usually have yoghurt and ice cream. I don’t eat desserts anyway, so am not disappointed.
Overall, I’d give Jansbrugs dinner a ‘7’, which is very high for my standards, but I added bonus points for politeness. Upstairs there’s the cafeteria, open on weekdays. The space just under the roof is very cosy, with some nice couches, newspapers and relaxing Jansbruggers. I complete my observations over a cup of coffee at the bar.
The Jansbrugger, I conclude, is Jan Modaal, the average taxpayer. He’s polite, decent and well-groomed. Five years after graduation he (or she) will have 2.4 children, a station wagon or a minivan and a large dog. It’s also my personal experience that Jansbruggers are nice people, good friends and hard working colleagues. The words ‘Broederlijcken Liefde‘ (brotherly love) in their slogan are genuine. They are the cornerstones of society.
Jansbrug keeps it in the middle. It was founded in 1947, after the war, and although it’s not stuck with a 1920s mindset like the traditional societies, it was relatively unharmed by the troublesome 1970s that formed societies like Wolbodo and almost killed off some of the smaller TU societies.
Jansbrug has structure but is also laid-back, and with its 650 members it’s not too big or too small. The society is especially proud of its location, consisting of two neighbouring houses with foundations dating from the early 15th century. The cellars house the beer supply of Jansbrug, just like in the old days, when Oude Delft 50-52 was home to the beer brewery ‘In ‘t blauwe Cruijs’.
During exam period the Jansbrug dining room is mostly empty. Today is no exception, and even though I’m quite late there’s plenty of food. A polite freshman and a friendly girl serve me potatoes, salad de luxe and a corncob (for the vegetarians). The salad is made de luxe by some feta cheese, olives, pine kernels and some sippets. I take a place at one of tables between the lime green walls of the dining room, on which many badly painted youthful figures are engaged in various social activities.
About a dozen typical Jansbruggers are there too: some have study books with them. I overhear some talk of sine and cosine and π’s; others mildly discuss the advantages of Jansbrug over Virgiel. The potatoes are not too bad, though I don’t dare to scoop mayo from the gargantuan jar. As far as I know it might have been there since 1500 as well.
The salad is also ok, the olives and feta belong there, thought the kernels look and taste very cheap. The freshman managed to spoil the corncobs, making them dry. Well, it doesn’t affect the taste and I like corncobs, so who cares? Out of curiosity I ask the cute serving girl about dessert. No dessert today, she says, but they usually have yoghurt and ice cream. I don’t eat desserts anyway, so am not disappointed.
Overall, I’d give Jansbrugs dinner a ‘7’, which is very high for my standards, but I added bonus points for politeness. Upstairs there’s the cafeteria, open on weekdays. The space just under the roof is very cosy, with some nice couches, newspapers and relaxing Jansbruggers. I complete my observations over a cup of coffee at the bar.
The Jansbrugger, I conclude, is Jan Modaal, the average taxpayer. He’s polite, decent and well-groomed. Five years after graduation he (or she) will have 2.4 children, a station wagon or a minivan and a large dog. It’s also my personal experience that Jansbruggers are nice people, good friends and hard working colleagues. The words ‘Broederlijcken Liefde‘ (brotherly love) in their slogan are genuine. They are the cornerstones of society.

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